PS 

1006 
A6 

A17 
1911 

MAIN 


UC-NRLF 


SB    M31    flbt, 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


By 
GEORGE  ADE 


.  INDIANAPOLIS 

THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  CO. 
PUBLISHERS 


Copyright    1911 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  Co. 


EXPLANATION 

AT  last  my  verses  are  to  be  published! 
I  would  not  trust  them  to  a  commer 
cial  publisher.  Come  to  think  of  it,  no 
commercial  publisher  has  asked  for  them. 
Why?  Because  I  am  not  suspected  of 
being  a  poet,  or  a  versifier  or  even  a 
rhymester. 

But  —  a  newspaper  writer  feeding  a  hun 
gry  column,  an  eight-hour  librettist  an 
swering  the  call  for  "  extra  numbers  "  and 
a  college  alumnus  helping  out  on  the  an 
nual,  finds,  in  checking  up  the  rush-and- 
tumble  work  of  many  years,  that  he  has 
accumulated  in  his  private  archives  quite  a 
mess  of  something  or  other  that  cannot  be 
filed  under  the  head  of  "  prose/' 

Many  of  the  items  of  merchandise  filling! 
these  pages  were  prepared  for  various  mu-j 
sical  plays.  Some  were  tried  out  am 


M73G931 


EXPLANATION 

failed  to  satisfy  the  yearnings  of  the  tired 
business  man  who  happened  to  be  in  the 
theater  that  evening.  Others  were  handed 
back  to  me  as  being  too  subtle  or  too  frivo 
lous  or  too  something.  Anyway  they  were 
handed  back.  Some  of  them  were  sung  in 
public,  but  these  will  seem  new,  even  to 
those  who  endeavored  to  hear  them. 

Most  of  them  will  be  tagged  and  some 
dated  —  not  that  I  would  take  advantage 
of  the  statute  of  limitations,  but  merely  to 
let  the  reader  know  that  I  formed  the  habit 
early  in  life  and  could  not  overcome  it  im- 
,mediately. 

G.  A. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


R-E-M-0-R-S-E 

From  "  The  Sultan  of  Sulu." 

The  cocktail  is  a  pleasant  drink; 

It's  mild  and  harmless  —  I  don't  think ! 

When  you've  had  one,  you  call  for  two, 

And  then  you  don't  care  what  you  do. 

Last  night  I  hoisted  twenty-three 

Of  those  arrangements  into  me. 

My  wealth  increased,  I  swelled  with  pride, 

I  was  pickled,  primed,  and  ossified; 

But  R-E-M-O-R-S-E ! 

The  water  wagon  is  the  place  for  me. 

I  think  that  somewhere  in  the  game 

I  wept  and  told  my  maiden  name. 

At  four  I  sought  my  whirling  bed; 

At  eight  I  woke  with  such  a  head! 

It  is  no  time  for  mirth  and  laughter, 

The  cold,  gray  dawn  of  the  morning  after! 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

If  ever  I  want  to  sign  the  pledge 

It's  the  morning  after  I've  had  an  edge; 

When  I've  been  full  of  the  oil  of  joy, 

And  fancied  I  was  a  sporty  boy ! 

The  world  was  one  kaleidoscope 

Of  purple  bliss,  transcendent  hope. 

But  now  I'm  feeling  mighty  blue  — 

Three  cheers  for  the  W.  C.  T.  U. ! 

R-E-M-O-R-S-E! 

Those  dry  Martinis  did  the  work  for  me ; 

Last  night  at  twelve  I  felt  immense, 

To-day  I  feel  like  thirty  cents. 

My  eyes  are  bleared,  my  coppers  hot, 

I'll  try  to  eat,  but  I  cannot. 

It  is  no  time  for  mirth  and  laughter, 

The  cold,  gray  dawn  of  the  morning  after! 


WAYSIDE  AMBITION 

Chicago  Record  —  1895. 

I  want  to  be  a  brakeman, 

Dog  gone! 

Legs  hangin'  over  the  edge  of  a  flat  car, 
Train  goin'  'bout  twenty-five  miles  'n  hour, 
Kickin'  the  dog-fennel  'long  the  track  — 
That's  what  a  brakeman  does. 
2 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I  want  to  be  a  brakeman, 

I  jing! 

Makin'  the  boys  git  off  the  platform, 
Cussin'  the  drayman  if  the  skids  is  lost. 
Hollers,  "  Back  'er  a  len'th,"  and  engineer  has  to  — 

That's  a  brakeman  for  ye! 

No  conductor  for  me,  just  a  brakeman, 

By  hen! 

Can  make  a  couplin'  on  the  dead  run, 
Has  spring-bottom  pants  'n'  braid  on  his  clothes, 
Carries  a  lantern  at  night  V  cap  over  his  ears  — 

That's  a  brakeman,  I'll  tell  ye ! 

I  want  to  be  a  brakeman, 

Geeminently ! 

Stand  in  with  agents  and  op'rators, 
Gits  to  Peru  every  night  'n'  sees  a  show, 
Knows  the  numbers  of  the  trains,  chaws  tobacker  — 

He's  a  regular  one,  you  bet! 

'N'  I  want  to  be  head  brakeman, 

Gol-lee ! 

Twistin'  'er  hard,  smoke  rollin'  'round  y'u, 
Country  people  stoppin'  work  to  look, 
Girls  wavin'  at  y'u  all  the  way  to  Peru ; 

I'll  be  one,  too,  some  day. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


THE  BOGUS  MILITARY 

Written  for  "Peggy  from  Paris."    Sent  back.     Too  per 
sonal. 


Behold  in  each  a  warrior  bold 

With  epaulets  of  gleaming  gold; 

With  nodding  plume  and  jeweled  sword 

Which  only  heroes  can  afford. 

We  tremble  not  at  war's  alarms 

We  disregard  each  call  to  arms; 

At  bloodshed  we  can  loudly  laugh  — 

We're  Colonels  on  the  Governor's  staff. 

We're  on  the  Governor's  staff. 

CHORUS 

Oh,  the  bogus  military 

Is  a  wondrous  sight  to  see; 

Napoleon  in  his  glory 

Was  never  one  —  two  —  three. 

We  can  fight  all  night 

And  attack  on  sight 

A  bowl  of  deadly  punch; 
And  when  the  dishes  rattle, 
We  engage  in  deadly  battle 

4 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

With  a  bang-up  champagne  lunch. 

Hooray ! 
The  bogus  military  men! 


ii 


The  only  smoke  we've  seen  as  yet 

Arises  from  a  cigarette, 

And  it  has  always  been  our  boast 

We  never  quail  except  on  toast. 

Dyspepsia  is  our  only  foe; 

The  only  shot  that  we  may  know, 

The  snap-shot  of  the  photograph; 

We're  Colonels  on  the  Governor's  staff. 

We're  on  the  Governor's  staff. 


THE  COLLEGE  WIDOW 

Printed  in  1890  in  "  The  Souvenir"  a  volume  issued  by 
the  Sigma  Chi  chapter  at  Purdue  University. 

When  I  was  but  a  Freshman  —  and  that  was  long 

ago  — 

I  saw  her  first,  but  did  not  learn  her  name. 
She  was  at  a  lecture,  I  believe,  in  the  first  or  second 

row, 
And  the  Junior  with  her  seemed  to  be  her  flame. 

5 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

He  held  her  fan  all  evening  and  gazed   into  her 

eyes; 
Thought   I,  "  Now  they're   engaged,   or   soon  will 

be;" 
But  afterward  they  quarreled,   as   I   learned  with 

some  surprise, 
When  the  faculty  conferred  on  him  G.  B. 

That  very   spring  a   rumor   in   the   college   circles 

spread, 

That  a  Senior  had  her  young  affections  snared, 
And  after  he  had  graduated  then  the  two  would 

wed; 

'Twas  even  said  her  trousseau  was  prepared. 
It  didn't  come  to  pass  at  all;  when  I  returned  next 

fall, 

She  had  a  young  professor  on  the  string; 
He  used  to  send  her  flowers,  and  frequently  would 

call, 
And  kindly  turn  her  music  when  she'd  sing. 

The  prof  received  an  offer  from  some  college  in 

the  east, 

And  left  quite  unexpectedly  one  day ; 
Within  a  week  the  charmer  wasn't  grieving  in  the 

least, 

When  I  saw  her  with  a  Freshman  at  the  play. 
She  had  a  gay  flirtation  with  a  special,  taking  art; 

6 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I  went  with  him  to  call,  one  Sunday  night; 

He  kindly  introduced  me,  then  I  played  a  villain's 

part, 
For  I  made  a  mash,  and  knocked  him  out  of  sight. 


O,  charming  college  widow,  I  never  can  forget 

The  night  when  you  put  on  my  college  pin; 

I  pressed  your  hand  and  told  you  that  the  act  you'd 
not  regret, 

And  you  said  you'd  stick  to  us  through  thick  and 
thin. 

1  remember  still  the  picnics  and  that  moonlight 
promenade, 

Just  the  night  before  I  paid  for  my  degree, 

When  we  interchanged  such  sacred  vows,  and  dec 
larations  made 

That  we'd  love  each  other  through  eternity. 

I  heard  from  you  quite  often  —  I  liked  your  letters, 

too  — 

They  were  spicy  and  chuck  full  of  college  news ; 
But  the  interval  between  them  soon  became  a  month 

or  two, 

And  our  courtship  seemed  its  interest  to  lose ; 
I  didn't  write  for  full  three  months,  and  one  day 

I  received 
By  express,  collect,  each  love-stick  billet  doux, 

7 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  though  I  swore  that  I  had  been  both  jilted 

and  deceived, 
I  returned  your  letters,  paid  the  charges,  too! 


Last  commencement  I  revisited  the  scenes  of  col 
lege  life ; 

Six  years  had  brought  about  a  wondrous  change. 

I  knew  a  few  professors,  who  were  glad  to  meet 
my  wife, 

But  the  students  all  seemed  out  of  place  and 
strange. 

There  was  little  to  recall  to  me  the  olden  time  so 
sweet, 

And  so  it  was  a  pleasure,  you  may  know, 

At  the  field  day  exercises,  unexpectedly  to  meet 

An  acquaintance  of  the  happy  long  ago. 

She  looked  but  little  older,  her  laugh  was  just  as 

gay; 

Beside  her  was  a  gallant  Sophomore 
Who  held  her  parasol  aloft  and  gushed  in  just  the 

way 

That  doubtless  I  had  gushed  in  days  of  yore. 
I  merely  tipped  my  hat,  I  feared  to  introduce  my 

wife, 

For  I  knew  that  some  remark  might  lightly  fall, 
Revealing  to  my  better  half  a  chapter  of  my  life, 
Which  I'd  rather  she  should  not  suspect  at  all. 

8 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


THE  MICROBE'S  SERENADE 

Written  for  "The   Sho-Gun."    Returned   by   comedian. 
Too  Polysyllabic. 

A  love-lorn  microbe  met  by  chance 
At  a  swagger  bacteroidal  dance, 
A  proud  bacillian  belle,  and  she 
Was  first  of  the  animalculae. 
Of  organisms  saccharine, 
She  was  the  protoplasmic  queen; 
The  microscopical  pride  and  pet 
Of  the  biological  smartest  set; 
And  so  this  infinitesimal  swain 
Evolved  a  pleading,  low  refrain: 
"  Oh,  lovely  metamorphic  germ ! 
What  futile  scientific  term 
Can  well  describe  thy  many  charms? 
Come  to  these  embryonic  arms! 
Then  hie  away  to  my  cellular  home 
And  be  my  little  diatome." 

His  epithelium  burned  with  love; 
He  swore  by  molecules  above 
She'd  be  his  own  gregarious  mate 
Or  else  he  would  disintegrate. 
This  amorous  mite  of  a  parasite 
Pursued  the  germ  both  day  and  night, 

9 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  'neath  her  window  often  played 

This  Darwin-Huxley  serenade  — 

He'd  warble  to  her  ev'ry  day, 

This  rhizopodical  roundelay: 

O,  most  primordial  type  of  spore ! 

I  never  saw  your  like  before, 

And  though  a  microbe  has  no  heart 

From  you,  sweet  germ,  I'll  never  part ; 

We'll  sit  beneath  some  fungus  growth 

Till  dissolution  claims  us  both." 


THE  WOMAN  WITH  AN  ORDINARY  PAST 

Written  for  "  The   Old   Town."    Sent   back.     Too   bio 
graphical. 


The  folks  in  Section  A 
Who  watch  a  problem  play 

Of  the  kind  C.  F.  imports  for  Ethel  Barrymore 
Will  pity  quite  a  lot 
Poor  Sadie  in  the  plot 
Who  has  such  a  load  of  grief  she  couldn't  carry 

more. 

At  present  she  is  most  discreet 
She's  pale  and  wan  and  sad  and  sweet; 
\  10 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

>ss. 

But  once  she  went  a  trifle  fast- 
This  woman  with  a  past. 

This  woman  with  a  past  is  quite  engagin 

In  plays  by  Mister  Henry  Arthur  Jones 
We  look  at  her  with  streaming  eyes; 
We  very  deeply  sympathize 

When  she  relates  her  sins  in  melting  tones. 

Now  I've  a  past  of  quite  another  color ; 

In  humble  walks  of  life  my  lot  was  cast; 
I've  nothing  sinful  to  confess 
I've  been  too  well-behaved,  I  guess, 
The  woman  with  an  ordinary  past 

ii 

There's  no  poetic  charm 
In  living  on  a  farm, 
If  you  can't  be  lured  away  by  some  Lothario. 
The  girl  who  sticks  at  home, 
With  villains  does  not  roam, 
She  can  never  break  into  a  real  scenar 
I've  not  endured  the  tragic  woes 
Dealt  out  by  men  in  evening  clothes; 
What  chance  have  I  to  head  the  cast? 

I  have  no  spotted  past 
The  woman  with  a  past  is  fascinating 
She  enters  and  the  others  fade  away, 
But  one  who's  led  the  simple  life 
Till  she. becomes  a  lawful  wife 
II. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Cuts  mighty  little  figure  in  a  play. 
I  ran  a  boarding  house  till  I  was  thirty 
Connected  with  a  bank  account  at  last; 
No  need  of  taking  up  your  time; 
I've  not  committed  any  crime  — 
I'm  sorry,  but  I  haven't  got  a  past. 

in 

I've  never  learned  as  yet 
To  smoke  a  cigarette 

fr  to  wear  a  gown  that's  very  much  der o/le-tay. 
I  don't  know  how  to  drape 
My  simple  western  shape 
clinging  gown  of  most  expensive  quality. 
I've  got  a  man  I  call  my  own ; 
I  leave  all  other  men  alone; 
My  reputation  you  can't  blast; 

I  haven't  any  past. 

The  woman  with  a  past  gets  in  the  papers 
With  pictures  of  the  men  that  she  has  known, 
But  one  without  her  first  divorce 
Has  not  a  claim  on  fame,  of  course; 
The  scandal  sheets  all  leave  her  quite  alone. 
Her  life  is  quite  devoid  of  all  excitement; 
She  never  sets  the  social  world  aghast ; 
Oh,  pity  the  unhappy  lot 
Of  one  whose  life's  without  a  blot  — 
The  woman  with  an  ordinary  past. 
12 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

LEAVE  IT  TO  THE  BOYS  IN  THE  NAVY 
From  "The  Fair  Co-Ed." 


From  the  rousing  times  of  old  Paul  Jones 

Down  to  the  present  day, 

There's  one  good  toast  we  all  can  boast 

If  we  live  in  the  U.  S.  A. 

When  the  lights  are  up  and  the  music  swells 

And  the  waxen  floor  it  gleams, 

Each  maiden  fair  says,  "  Where,  oh  where 

Is  the  hero  of  my  dreams?" 

Up  steps  the  neat  little  middy, 

Up  steps  the  gay  cadet, 

Broad  of  shoulder,  he  can  hold  her 

In  a  way  she  won't  forget. 

The  Annapolis  style  of  dancing 

Is  the  one  the  girls  all  like 

With  partners  in  demand 

Civilians  cannot  land  — 

Leave  it  to  the  boys  in  the  navy. 


ii 


Decatur  kept  the  flag  on  high 
And  Farragut  never  quit; 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Old  Fighting  Bob  while  on  the  job 

Was  full  of  nerve  and  grit. 

At  the  present  day  we've  heroes  still, 

They're  never  known  to  stop, 

When  cold  champagne  comes  down  like  rain 

They  never  miss  a  drop. 

Up  come  the  men  from  the  squadron, 

Up  to  the  banquet  hall; 

Meet  all  comers  —  they  are  hummers  ; 

Never  a  one  will  fall. 

Off  in  the  foreign  countries, 

Where  they  are  wined  and  dined, 

They  answer  each  request 

And  finish  with  the  rest  — 

Leave  it  to  the  boys  in  the  navy. 

in 

When  Teddy  told  the  navy  boys 

To  sail  around  the  world, 

Till  every  land  would  understand 

Our  flag  was  still  unfurled; 

The  weaklings  were  beset  by  fear, 

But  not  the  boys  in  blue. 

Through  stormy  straits  they  braved  the  fates 

And  brought  each  vessel  through. 

Here's  to  the  men  who  are  sailing 

Far  in  the  distant  seas; 

They're  not  boasting  —  simply  coasting, 

u 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Learning  their  A,  B,  C's. 

A  cheer -for  the  men  on  the  flag- ship, 

For  the  little  gun-boat,  too. 

When  work  is  to  be  done, 

Or  when  there's  any  fun, 

Leave  it  to  the  boys  in  the  navy. 


IV 


We  don't  go  looking  for  a  scrap; 

We're  friendly  as  can  be, 

But  we  sleep  each  night  with  hearts  more  light 

When  we  count  our  ships  at  sea. 

There  have  been  wars,  there  may  be  wars, 

When  the  crowding  nations  meet: 

We'll  sit  back  tight  —  be  sure  we're  right, 

And  then  turn  loose  the  fleet. 

Trust  to  the  men  in  the  navy, 

Commodore  to  cadet; 

Strong  and  steady,  always  ready, 

Never  have  failed  us  yet. 

They  shoot  very  straight  in  the  navy 

And  they  don't  know  how  to  run 

From  any  sort  of  fellow,  whether  white  or  whether 

yellow  — 
Leave  it  to  the  boys  in  the  navy. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

THE  CULLUD  RACE 
Written  for  "  The  City  Chap."    Sent  back.     Too   long. 

The  'Publican  Party  —  the  Democratic, 

An'  the  daily  papers,  too, 
Have  asked  in  a  manneh  most  emphatic 

What  the  cullud  race  will  do. 
Will  the  AfFo-American  population 

Keep  growin'  at  such  a  rate 
That  by  and  by  they'll  rule  the  nation 

An'  control  most  ev'ry  state? 
The  statesmen  up  in  Washington 

This  problem  soon  must  face;  * 
It  seems  to  worry  ev'ry  one 

Excep'  the  cullud  race.  y 

We're   from   Af 'icuh  —  'ats  the  white   man's  veh- 
sion; 

We  was  careless  an'  we  got  caught, 
But  we  didn't  come  heah  on  no  excuhsion, 

We  come  becuz  we  was  brought! 
We  labored  hard  on  the  old  plantation, 

An'  we  neveh  traveled  fah, 
But  we  hoped  and  prayed  for  Emancipation 

An'  a  job  on  a  Pullman  cah. 
You  turned  us  free,  you  said  to  us, 

16 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

"  Your  culluh's  no  disgrace." 
So  if  we're  heah  you  must  not  cuss 
The  humble  cullud  race. 

When  a  coon  tries  to  enteh  some  profession 

The  white  man  hollers,  "  Stop ! 
You're  gettin'  fresh ;  it's  my  impression 

You  belong  in  a  bahbeh  shop."  \ 

But  s'pose  there  hadn't  been  rag-time  musicians  — 

What  would  the  white  folks  sing? 
And  how  would  actors  hold  their  positions 

If  they  didn't  do  buck  an'  wing? 
You  little  guess  how  much  you  owe 

To  'e  man  with  the  chahcoal  face 
You'd  neveh  had  a  minstrel  show 

Excep'  for  the  cullud  race. 

V 

We  commit  some  wrongs  —  in  the  cc^its  it's  written 

That  we've  stole  an'  sometimes  lieciN; 
But  you  neveh  heard  of  a  coon  committin' 

Such  a  crime  as  suicide. 
We  may  be  pooh,  down-trodden  creatures, 

But  many  a  millionaire 
Would  like  to  have  our  smilin'  featui 

An'  a  life  as  free  from  care. 
With  pickaninnies  just  enough 

An'  youh  wife  employed  some  plac< 
Three  meals  a  day  —  it  ain't  so  touj 

To  belong  to  the  cullud  race. 

17 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


WHAT  MAN  DARE  SAY? 


Written   for   "The   Old   Town."    Sent   back.     Too   senti 
mental.  • — 

What  man  dare  say  that  he  is  quite  immune 

From  charms  and  spells  that  ev'ry  girl  possesses  ? 
A  budding  love  is  like  the  warmth  of  June, 

That  lulls  and  dulls  his  senses  ere  he  guesses ; 
Yet  who  should  seek  to  fly  from  such  attack? 

Though  stricken  sore,  I  hold  my  charmer  blame 
less; 
My  truant  heart  I  would  not  summon  back, 

I  leave  it  in  the  care  of  one  who's  nameless. 

He  jests  at  scars  who  never  felt  the  blow 

That  comes  when  love  first  smites  and  sends  him 

reeling ; 

The  stinging  arrow  speeds  and  brings  him  low, 
While  pain  and  pleasure  blend  in  that  new  feel 
ing. 
I  care  not  if  the  wound  will  never  heal ; 

My  weakness  I  proclaim  in  manner  shameless ; 
I'll  never  see  her  more  and  yet  I  feel, 

I'll  love  thro'  all  the  years  the  one  who's  name 
less. 


18 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

CRIME  IS  MERELY  A  DISEASE    £^~ 

Written  for  "  The  Sho-Gun"    Sent  back.     Too  satirical. 


The  criminal  of  other  days 

Was  tortured  in  outlandish  ways; 
Upon  the  rack  they'd  break  his  back 

Or  at  the  stake  they'd  burn  him. 
Sometimes  they'd  strap  him  to  a  wheel 

And  stretch  him  till  he'd  loudly  squeal; 
Nor  heed  his  pitiful  appeal, 

As  on  the  spikes  they'd  turn  him. 
But  crime  is  merely  a  disease; 

Each  scientific  mind  agrees; 

We're  kind  to  all  offenders  in  our  day; 
For  the  burglar  who  would  kill  us 

Has  been  stung  by  a  bacillus, 

So  we  dose  him  up  and  send  him  on  his  way. 

To-day  if  you  commit  a  crime, 

You  have  a  most  delicious  time; 
A  wagon  blue  will  carry  you 

To  a  large  stone  institution. 
The  clerk  assigns  you  to  a  suite, 

With  chiffonier  and  window  seat, 
An  iron  bedstead,  trim  and  neat 

And  a  sign :     "  No  persecution." 

19 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

For  crime  is  merely  a  disease; 

Our  jail  officials  strive  to  please; 

They  humbly  come  and  ask  you,  "  Did  you  ring?  " 
Humanitarian  methods  sweet 

Have  made  each  pen  a  glad  retreat 

And  Newport's  no  more  pleasant  than  Sing  Sing. 

Within  our  jails  is  often  met 

The  most  exclusive  social  set: 
The  bank  cashier,  a  financier, 

Who  has  a  way  that's  taking; 
The  man  whose  auto  speed  was  high, 

The  one  whose  alimony's  shy, 
And  college  lads,  who  often  try 

Their  hands  at  window  breaking. 
For  crime  is  merely  a  disease, 

Or  else  such  lovely  folks  as  these 

Would  never  be  connected  with  a  crime. 
It's  getting  to  be  quite  a  fad 

To  pay  a  fine  for  being  bad ; 

It's  no  disgrace  to  serve  a  little  time. 

If  you  have  tried  in  vain  to  know 

The  leaders  of  the  social  show, 
To  the  county  jail  you  straightway  go, 

On  a  charge  of  kleptomania. 
Attractive  ladies  bring  to  you 

Fresh  roses  every  day  or  two; 
20 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

They  hold  your  hand  if  you  feel  blue, 
And  there's  nothing  said  to  pain  you. 

For  crime  is  merely  a  disease 
And  so  the  woman's  club  decrees 
That  jailbirds  must  be  coddled  and  cares 

The  bold  and  wicked  hold-up  men 
Get  chummy  with  the  upper  ten, 
The  convict  has  become  an  honoredy&uest. 


THE  SMILING  ISLE 

From  "  The  Sultan  of  Sulu."    Sung  by  Mr.  Frank  Moulan 
as  the  Sultan. 


We  have  no  daily  papers 
To  tell  of  Newport  capers, 

No  proud  four  hundred  to  look  down  on  ordinary 

folk; 

No  Scotch  imported  liquors, 
No  Stock  Exchange  and  tickers 

To  lure  us  on  with  rosy  hopes  and  some  day 

land  us  broke; 
We've  not  a  single  college 
Where  youth  may  get  a  knowledge 

Of  chorus  girls  and  cigarettes,  of  poker  and  the 
like; 

21 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

No  janitors  to  sass  us, 
No  bell-boys  to  harass  us, 

/*"*  And  we've  never  known  the  pleasure  of  .a  labor- 
(  union  strike. 

ii 

We  have  no  prize-fight  sluggers, 
No  vaudevillian  muggers, 

No  one  of  us  has  ever  shot  the  chutes  or  looped 

the  loop; 

No  cable-cars  or  trolleys, 
No  life-insurance  jollies, 

No  bank  cashiers  to  take  our  money  'ere  they  fly 

the  coop; 

No  bookies  and  no  races, 
No  seaside  summer  places; 

No  Bertha  Clays  and  Duchesses  to  make  the  fe 
males  cry; 

We  have  no  dairy  lunches, 
Where  they  eat  their  food  in  bunches, 

And  we  don't  insult  our  stomachs  with  the  thing 
they  call  mince-pie. 

in 

/^Ve  have  no  short-haired  ladies 
/  Who  are  always  raising  Hades 
\<-~   With   their   finical   and    funny   old   reformatory 
fads; 

22 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

No  ten-cent  publications, 

Sold  at  all  the  railway  stations, 

With  a  page  or  two  of  reading  and  a  hundred 

stuffed  with  ads; 
We  never  chew  in  Sulu 
Any  pepsin  gum  or  tolu  — 

In  fact,  we're  not  such  savages  as  some  of  you 

might  think; 
And  during  intermission, 
We  always  crave  permission, 

Before  we  walk  on  other  people  just  to  get  a 
drink. 


IV 

We  have  no  politicians, 
And  under  no  conditions 

Do  we  tolerate  the  fraud  who  cures  by  laying  on 

of  hands; 

We  have  no  elocutionists, 
No  social  revolutionists, 

No    amateur    dramatics,    and    no    upright    baby 

grands ; 

We  don't  play  golf  and  tennis, 
And  we  never  know  the  menace 

Of  a  passing  fad  or  fancy  that  may  turn  the  na 
tion's  head ; 
I'm  proud  of  my  dominion 

23 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

When  I  voice  the  bold  opinion 

That  we'll  never  know  the  tortures  of  a  patent 

folding-bed. 

And  that  is  why,  you'll  understand, 
I  love  my  own,  my  native  land, 

My  little  isle  of  Sulu, 

Smiling  isle  of  Sulu ! 
I'm  not  ready  to  say  good-by; 
I'm  mighty  sorry  that  I  have  to  die. 


THE  MODERN  JAPANEE 
From  (t  The  Old  Town." 

We  figured  once  on  fans  and  screens  — 

We  figure  now  on  the  Philippines. 
It's  not  the  style  to  pat  my  head ; 

The  white  man  shakes  my  hand  instead. 
I  once  was  a  cute  little  joke  of  a  Jap, 
But  now  I'm  a  fierce  little  war-making  chap, 
And  nobody's  really  anxious  to  scrap, 
With  the  modern  Japanee. 

Since  Gilbert  wrote  of  Nanki-Pooh, 
We've  moved  along  a  peg  or  two: 

You  thought  that  we  were  acrobats, 
You  find  us  high-browed  diplomats. 
24 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

We've  a  government  very  much  like  your  own, 
Our  Mikado  sits  on  a  golden  throne, 
Over  here  Mister  Morgan  rules  alone, 
Like  the  modern  Japanee. 

Jap,  oh  Jap,  oh  Japanee, 

I'd  rather  fight  than  drink  my  tea; 
Brown  as  a  berry,  busy  as  a  bee, 
Ichi  ban !  Ichi  ban !  Japanee. 
My  flag  is  found  on  ev'ry  sea; 
The  Russian  and  the  tough  Chinee, 
Can  tell  a  lot  regarding  me, 
Banzai!  Hoopla!  Japanee! 


KEEP  YOUR  WHIP  IN  YOUR  HAND 

Written  for  "The  Old   Town."    Sent  back.     Too  figura 
tive. 

Each  man  is  like  a  noble  steed; 

Wrhen  he's  a  colt  I  take  him; 
I  lock  him  up  and  watch  his  feed, 

In  course  of  time  I  break  him. 
I  hitch  him  to  my  little  cart, 

I  hold  the  reins  above  him, 
Flick  lightly  on  some  tender  part, 

To  let  him  know  I  love  him. 

25 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Then  to  the  road,  the  public  road,  where  ev'ry  one 

may  see, 
What   a   big   and   beautiful,    well-groomed   animal 

now  belongs  to  me ! 
Don't  let  him  balk !     Don't  let  him  walk ! 

Give  him  to  understand, 
You  have  the  say,  he's  to  obey, 
And  keep  the  whip  in  your  hand. 

Each  man  is  like  a  noble  steed, 

He's  proud  of  his  position, 
And  thinks  because  he's  in  the  lead, 

He  runs  the  expedition. 
Some  one  may  envy  you  the  brute, 

And  steal  him,  if  they're  able; 
So  ev'ry  night,  if  you  are  cute, 
You'll  lock  him  in  the  stable. 
The  boulevard,  so  smooth  and  hard,  is  where  you 

work  him  out, 
But  keep  the  blinders  on  him  so  that  he  can't  look 

about. 
Don't  let  him  jump, —  give  him  a  thump; 

Prove  that  you  have  the  sand; 
Show  that  you're  game,  he  will  be  tame, 

And  learn  to  eat  from  your  hand. 
Crack !  crack !  Clickety  clack  ! 

Don't  let  him  stumble  or  loaf  or  slack ! 
Crack !  crack !  Steady,  Jack  ! 

Keep  the  boy  in  the  beaten  track. 
26 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Whoa,  boy !  Slow,  boy ! 

Gently  give  your  command ; 
He  will  mind,  if  you're  kind, 

But  keep  your  whip  in  your  hand ! 


YELLOW !     YELLOW !      — - 

THE    POET   OF   THE    NEW    SCHOOL    SPEAKS 
Chicago  Record  — 1898. 

I'm  great  and  ^ 

I  know  it. 

People  can't  understand  me. 
I  can't  understand  myself. 
I  don't  want  to. 
If  I  did  understand  myself 
I  wouldn't  be  great. 
Listen  now : 
"  The  moon  reels  and  the 

Phantom  passes  t^vice  and  thrice 

The  death  damp  hand 

Across  my  brow. 

0  what  of  joy? 

O  what  of  grief  f 

Darkness  —  blank  —  a  sob  in  the  throat. 

O  phantom,  phantom,  phantom!" 

27 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

^ 

Pretty  good,  eh? 
Especially  if  it  has 
Some  little,  smudgy,  inky 
Pictures  strung  along  the  edges. 
I  used  to  write  about 
Men  and  women,  back  yards, 
Plain  courtships,  flowers  and  other  things 
That  people  understood. 
Now  I  write  lines  that  have 
No  meaning,  because  they  are 
Fragments  of  dreams  that 
Vere  never  dreamt. 
"  A  soul  zvrithed  long 

In  its  purple  belongings. 

O  drip  of  blood! 

O  drip  of  blood! 

Caught  up  in  the  wan  hand  of  sleep 

And  clotted  with  the  dawn." 
Do  you  notice  the  "  O  "— 
The  upper-case  "  O  "  ? 
I  use  that  a  great  deal. 
If  anyone  will  tell  me 
What  I  am  writing  about 
I  will  let  him  smoke  my 
Opium  pipe  all  afternoon. 
These  little,  twisted, 
Ugly,  whirligig  pictures 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Have  nothing  to  do  with 

The  lines  I  am  writing. 

If  I  tell  about  a  midnight  trance, 

I  have  a  picture  of  a  sunrise. 

If  the  lines  mention  something 

About  a  maiden  with  snaky  hair 

The  picture  is  that  of  a  demon 

With  a  forked  tail. 

This  is  genius. 

The  world  didn't  find  it  out 

Until  last  year. 

There  are  but  two  colors 

In  all  this  world  —  yellow 

And  another  shade  of  yellow.  ; 

I  am  very  yellow  myself, 

But  people  say  I  am  great. 

I  write  my  stuff  on  yellow  pa  er 

And  use  yellow  ink. 

Excuse  me  for  awhile; 

I'm  full  of  hop. 

SCOTCH  STUFF 
From  "The  Old  Town." 

Scotch  stuff  has  come  to  stay, 

Now  the  burr  drives  out  the  brogue; 

Here  in  the  U.  S.  A. 
The  "  hoot  mon  "  is  in  vogue. 

29 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Hail  to  the  canny  Scot, 
^  He'll  get  what's  to  be  got. 

Scotland!     Home  of  bag-pipes  and  dances, 

Also  of  golf  and  the  smoky  high-ball; 
How  we  love  your  plays  and  romances ; 

Although  we  don't  understand  them  at  all! 
Scotland !     Home  of  thistle  and  heather, 
Land  of  the  cap  set  off  with  a  feather, 
Upland  moors  and  blustery  weather, 

Various  clans  we  do  not  recall. 
Scotland !     Home  of  lasses  and  laddies, 

All  of  them  sweet  as  the  lilies  in  spring; 
Links  and  bunkers,  foozles  and  caddies, 

Loudly  for  you  we  sing, 

To  you  our  tribute  bring; 
From  the  land  of  Burns  and  Barrie, 
Edinburgh  Review  and  Harry! 
We  welcome  you ! 
We  welcome  you ! 

SINCE  I  FIRST  MET  YOU 

From  "  The  Sultan  of  Sulu" 

I  am  a  dashing,  gay  Lothario; 
I've  a  reputation  as  a  gallant  beau; 
Courting  pretty  girls  is  a  habit  hard  to  break; 
I'm  a  bold  coquette  and  rather  reckless  rake. 
30 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I've  told  my  love  to  many  a  girl, 

But  never  a  word  was  true, 
For  my  passion  intense,  it  was  a  mere  pretense 

Until  I  encountered  you. 

I've  been  courting  many,  many  times ; 

In  the  most  exclusive  circles  I'm  a  pet  — 
Writing  little  notes,  and  inditing  tender  rhymes 

To  the  maids  of  ev'ry  station  that  I've  met. 
I've  sworn  that  each  was  my  first  love, 

But  never  a  word  was  true, 
For  I  never  knew  bliss  of  a  kind  like  this, 

Until  I  encountered  you. 

Since  I  first  met  you, 

Since  I  first  met  you, 

The  open  sky  above  me  seems  a  deeper  blue; 
Golden,  rippling  sunshine  warms  me  through  and 
through, 

Each  flower  has  a  new  perfume, 

Since  I  met  you! 

FOOLISH  WEDDING  BELLS 

From  "  The  Sultan  of  Sulu." 

When  you  are  feeling  out  of  gear 

And  blue  as  indigo ; 
The  world  devoid  of  any  cheer, 

Your  spirits  rather  low; 

31 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Now  this  is  what  you  ought  to  do,  and  that  without 

delay : 
Go  seek  the  matrimonial  mart  —  get  married  right 

away. 
For  men  they  come,  and  men  they  go, 

Don't  wait  until  to-morrow ; 
For  those  who  wait  too  long  may  know 

A  spinster's  lot  is  sorrow. 
Shut  your  eyes !  grab  a  prize ! 
Choose  a  male  at  the  bargain  sale. 
To  single  joys  your  last  farewells, 
And  ring  those  foolish  wedding-bells. 


IL  JANITORO     ^ 

•N 

An  attempt  to  treat  a  modern  dramatic  incident  according 
to  the  approved  methods  of  grand  opera.  First  tirinted 
in  The  Chicago  Record. 

[Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tyler  are  seated  in  their  apartment 
on  the  fifth  floor  of  the  Behemoth  residential  Hat 
building.  Mrs.  Tyler  arises,  places  her  hand  on 
her  heart,  and  moves  to  the  center  of  the  room. 
Mr.  Tyler  follows  her}  with  his  right  arm  ex 
tended.} 

Mrs.  Tyler: 

I  think  I  smell  smoke. 

32 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Mr.  Tyler: 

She  thinks  she  smells  smoke. 

Mrs.  T.: 

I  think  I  smell  smoke. 

Mr.  T.: 

Oh.     What  is  this?     She  says  she  thinks  she 
smells  smoke. 

Mrs.  T.: 

What  does  it  mean,  what  does  it  mean? 

This  smell  of  smoke  may  indicate 

That  we'll  be  burned  —  oh-h-h,  awful  fate ! 

Mr.  T.: 

Behold  the  smell  grows  stronger  yet, 
The  house  is  burning,  I'd  regret 
To  perish  in  the  curling  flames; 
Oh.     Horror  !  horror ! !  horror ! ! ! 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.: 

Oh,  sad  is  our  lot,  sad  is  our  lot, 
To  perish  in  the  flames  so  hot, 
To  curl  and  writhe  and  fry  and  sizz, 
Oh,  what  a  dreadful  thing  it  is 
To  think  of  such  a  thing! 

Mrs.  T.: 

We  must  escape! 

Mr.  T.: 

Yes,  yes,  we  must  escape ! 

33 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Mrs.  T.: 

We  have  no  time  to  lose. 

Mr.  T.: 

Ah,  bitter  truth,  Ah,  bitter  truth, 
We  have  no  time  to  lose. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.: 

Sad  is  our  lot,  sad  is  our  lot, 

To  perish  in  the  flames  so  hot  —  etc. 

Mr.  T.: 

Hark,  what  is  that? 

Mrs.  T.: 

Hark,  what  is  that? 

Mr.  T.: 

It  is  the  dread  alarm  of  fire. 

Mrs.  T.: 

Ah,  yes,  ah,  yes,  it  is  the  dread  alarm. 

Mr.  T.: 

The  dread  alarm  strikes  on  the  ear 

And  chills  me  with  an  awful  fear. 

The  house  will  burn,  oh,  can  it  be 

That  I  must  die  in  misery, 

That  I  must  die  in  misery, 

The  house  will  burn,  oh,  can  it  be 

That  I  must  die  in  misery? 

Mrs.  T.: 

Come,  let  us  fly! 

34 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Mr.  T.: 

Tis  well.     'Tis  well.     We'll  fly  at  once. 

(Enter  all  the  other  residents  of  the  fifth  floor.) 
Mr.  T.: 

Kind  friends,  I  have  some  news  to  tell. 

This  house  is  burning,  it  were  well 

That  we  should  haste  ourselves  away 

And  save  our  lives  without  delay. 
Chorus: 

What  is  this  he  tells  us? 

It  must  be  so; 

The  building  is  on  fire 

And  we  must  go. 

Oh,  hasten,  oh,  hasten,  oh,  hasten  away, 

Our  terror  we  would  not  conceal, 

And  language  fails  to  express  the  alarm 

That  in  our  hearts  we  feel. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.: 

Ah,  language  fails  to  express  the  alarm 

That  in  their  hearts  they  feel. 

(Enter  the  Janitor.) 
Janitor: 

Hold,  I  am  here. 
Mr.  T.: 

Ah,  it  is  the  Janitoro. 
Mrs.  T.: 

Can  I  believe  my  senses 

35 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Or  am  I  going  mad? 

It  is  the  Janitoro, 

It  is  indeed  the  Janitoro. 
Janitor: 

Such  news  I  have  to  tell. 
Mr.  T.: 

Ah,  I  might  have  known 

He  has  such  news  to  tell. 
Mrs.  T.: 

Speak  and  break  the  awful  suspense. 
Mrs.  T.: 

Yes,  speak. 
Janitor: 

I  come  to  inform  you 

That  you  must  quickly  fly 

The  fearful  blaze  is  spreading, 

To  tarry  is  to  die. 

The  floors  underneath  you 

Are  completely  burned  away, 

They  cannot  save  the  building, 

So  now  escape  I  pray. 
Mrs.  T.: 

Oh,  awful  message 

How  it  chills  my  heart. 
Janitor: 

The  flames  are  roaring  loudly, 

Oh,  what  a  fearful  sound ! 

36 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

You  can  hear  the  people  shrieking 

As  they  jump  and  strike  the  ground. 

Oh,  horror  overtakes  me, 

And  I  merely  pause  to  say 

That  the  building's  doomed  for  certain 

Oh,  haste,  oh,  haste  away. 
Mrs.  T.: 

Oh,  awful  message. 

How  it  chills  my  heart. 

Yet  we  will  sing  a  few  more  arias 

Before  we  start. 
Mr.  T.: 

Yes,  a  few  more  arias  and  then  away. 
Chorus: 

Oh,  hasten,  oh,  hasten,  oh,  hasten  away,  etc., 

etc. 
Mrs.  T.: 

Now,  e'er  I  retreat, 

Lest  death  o'ertakes  me 

I'll  speak  of  the  fear 

That  convulses  and  shakes  me. 

I  sicken  to  think  what  may  befall, 

Oh,  horror !  horror ! !  horror  ! ! ! 
Mr.  T.: 

The  woman  speaks  the  truth, 

And  there  can  be  no  doubt 

That  we  will  perish  soon 

Unless  we  all  clear  out. 

37 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Chorus: 

Oh,  hasten,  oh,  hasten,  oh,  hasten  away,  etc., 

etc. 

(But  why  go  further?  The  supposition  is  that 
they  continued  the  dilatory  tactics  of  grand  opera 
and  perished  in  the  flames.) 


THE  CHAPERON 
From  "  The  Fair  Co-Ed." 

The  very  first  duty  of  a  chaperon 

Is  to  leave  the  young  folks  quite  alone; 

Permitting  them  to  sit  up  late 

In  twos  and  twos  and  tete-a-tete  — 

Whatever  that  may  mean. 

When  a  giddy  old  girl  is  on  the  shelf 

And  can't  have  any  more  fun  herself, 

It  gives  her  a  certain  kind  of  thrill 

To  know  that  others  are  in  it  still. 

A  good  professional  chaperon 
No  breach  of  etiquette  will  condone, 
And  yet  if  she  is  fly  she'll  know 
To  hang  around  would  be  de  trop  — 
Whatever  that  may  mean. 
Although  I'm  old  and  quite  passe 
I  was  a  lulu  in  my  day; 

38 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Each  girl  has  a  right  to  a  private  squeeze 
But  she  must  not  sit  on  a  gentleman's  knees. 

I  love  to  chaperon  a  bunch 

Of  beautiful  buds,  and  I've  a  hunch 

The  reason  they  all  send  for  me  — 

It's  because  I'm  gay  as  I  used  to  be, 

'Way  back  in  the  summer  of  eighty-three  — 

Sing  hey  for  the  chaperon ! 


WEAK  LITTLE  WOMAN   L 

From  "  The  Old  Town"  ' 

I  speak  for  poor  little  woman  — 

Please  do  not  turn  away; 
Oh,  mighty  man,  do  what  you  can, 

Our  misery  to  allay. 
Just  think  how  it  makes  us  suffer 

To  watch  a  procession  go  past, 
And  not  have  a  right  to  march  half  the  night 

And  bring  home  a  package  at  last. 
You  give  us  lovely  pearls  in  strings, 

You  buy  us  rings  and  other  things; 
I've  even  heard  of  wealthy  chaps, 

Who  go  as  far  as  sable  wraps. 
But  when  for  ballots  we  insist, 

We'd  rather  not  be  hugged  and  kissed; 

39 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Tho'  once  a  little  house-hold  pet, 
I'm  now  a  fighting  suffragette. 

I  plead  for  weak  little  woman  — 

She's  but  a  captive  bird; 
Tho'  called  a  wife,  locked  up  for  life, 

She  never  dares  say  a  word; 
I  plead  for  down-trodden  woman, 

The  slave  of  a  tyrant  called  man; 
He  loves  her  so  much,  he'll  stand  for  a  touch, 

But  keeps  her  at  home  —  if  he  can. 
You've  petted  us,  you've  fondled  us, 

When  you  see  us  you  make  a  fuss, 
You've  crowned  us  as  the  queens  of  earth 

You've  blown  yourselves  for  all  you're  worth; 
But  darn  the  diadem  on  my  brow! 

I  want  a  vote  and  want  it  now ; 
And  you  can't  smother  my  regrets 

With  motor  cars  and  violets. 

Shoulder  to  shoulder,  sisters! 

Wait  for  emancipation  day! 
Fight  for  the  right,  until  the  light 

Drives  ev'ry  cloud  away! 
Shoulder  to  shoulder,  sisters! 

Up  with  the  flying  petticoat! 
Stand  by  your  gun,  man's  on  the  run, 

You've  got  a  right  to  vote ! 
40 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


YOUR  HONEYMOON  WILL  LAST 


From  "  The  Sho-Gun." 

She: 

When  I  settle  with  my  hubby 

In  our  little  home, 
He  must  not  be  wild  and  clubby, 

He  must  never  roam. 

He: 

For  a  change  you  will  be  pleading 

If  he  spends  his  time  in  reading, 
Some  excitement  you'll  be  needing, 

If  he  stays  at  home. 

She: 

But  if  I've  an  invitation 

To  some  gay  affair, 
He  must  show  an  inclination 

To  escort  me  there. 

He: 

If  he  comes  home  feeling  dreary, 

Says  your  friends  all  make  him  weary, 
Won't  go  out  with  little  deary, 

What  a  happy  pair! 

41 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Both: 

To  each  there's  some  objection, 

No  man  is  quite  perfection, 
For  some  are  slow  and  others  go 

A  pace  that's  very  fast. 
So  take  them  as  you  find  them. 

If  they  have  faults,  don't  mind  them; 
Just  let  him  have  his  own  sweet  way, 

And  your  honeymoon  will  last. 


II 


She: 

I  have  always  had  a  notion 

That  the  man  for  me 

Should  exhibit  a  devotion 

Boundless  as  the  sea. 

He: 

Students  of  the  subject  tell  us 
Loving  men  are  always  jealous; 

Modern,  up-to-date  Othellos, 
Foolish  as  can  be. 

She: 

If  to  others  he's  attentive 

I  will  never  care; 
Constant  love  shall  -be  preventive, 
Watching  ev'ry  snare. 
42 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

He: 

But  when  widow  amatory 

Leads  him  to  conservatory, 
Then  you'll  tell  a  diff 'rent  story ! 

What  a  happy  pair! 
Both: 

To  each  there's  some  objection, 

No  man  is  quite  perfection, 
For  some  delight  to  flirt  each  night 

With  widows  that  are  fast. 
So  take  them  as  you  find  them. 

If  they  have  faults,  don't  mind  them; 
Just  let  him  have  his  own  sweet  way, 

And  your  honeymoon  will  last. 


in 


She: 

I  have  read  a  ladies  journal, 

Reeking  with  advice ; 
How  to  make  his  love  eternal, 

Home  a  paradise. 
He: 

Sugar  as  a  steady  diet, 

Won't  digest  and  those  who  try  it 
Often  finish  with  a  riot! 

Wouldn't  that  be  nice? 

43 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

She: 

When  domestic  thunders  rumble, 

I  shall  stroke  his  hair; 
Sweet,  submissive,  meek  and  humble, 

Fond  beyond  compare. 

He: 

I'm  informed  that  husbands  vary, 

Soft  caresses  capillary, 
Sometimes  make  them  more  contrary ; 

What  a  happy  pair! 

Both: 

To  each  there's  some  objection, 

No  man  is  quite  perfection, 
For  some  insist  they  shan't  be  kissed, 

When  love's  young  dream  is  past. 
So  take  them  as  you  find  them. 

If  they  have  faults,  don't  mind  them ; 
Just  let  him  have  his  own  sweet  way, 

And  your  honeymoon  will  last. 


IV 


She: 

One  point  I'm  not  overlooking, 

Every  girl  should  know, 
How  to  supervise  the  cooking, 

It  will  please  him  so. 

44 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

He: 

Of  your  efforts  he  won't  speak  well, 

Mother's  cooking  you  can't  equal, 
What  a  most  unhappy  sequel, 

When  your  cake  is  dough. 

She: 

I'll  be  patient  for  a  season, 

Try  —  and  not  despair, 
If  he  blames  me  without  reason, 

Then  let  him  beware. 

He: 

When  some  recipe  you  borrow, 

He  will  fill  your  heart  with  sorrow, 
Saying,  "  Let's  dine  out  to-morrow !  " 
What  a  happy  pair! 

Both: 

To  each  there's  some  objection, 

No  man  is  quite  perfection, 
He's  hard  to  please  from  soup  to  cheese, 

A  real  iconoclast. 
So  take  them  as  you  find  them. 

If  they  have  faults,  don't  mind  them; 
Just  let  him  have  his  own  sweet  way, 

And  your  honeymoon  will  last. 


45 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


v 

She: 

Lest  my  afternoons  seem  lonely, 

Friends  shall  call  on  me; 
They  shall  meet  my  own  and  only, 

He  shall  pour  the  tea. 

He: 

Five  o'clocks  he'll  soon  be  scorning; 

If  he  finds  out  in  the  morning, 
What  is  coming,  he'll  give  warning, 

"  None  of  that  for  me." 

She: 

I  shall  win  by  tactics  clever, 

To  him,  I'll  declare, 
"  At  your  poker  games,  I'll  never 

Fail  to  be  right  there." 

He: 

When  the  men  are  playing  poker, 

If  a  woman  joins  the  smoker, 
They  are  mad  enough  to  choke  her! 
What  a  happy  pair! 

Both: 

To  each  there's  some  objection, 

No  man  is  quite  perfection, 
If  she  is  bright  she'll  serve  all  night 
A  very  wet  repast. 

46 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

So  take  them  as  you  find  them. 

If  they  have  faults,  don't  mind  them; 
Just  let  him  have  his  own  sweet  way, 

And  your  honeymoon  will  last. 


"  THE  LA  GRIPPE  " 
Written  for  the  Purdue  University  "  Souvenir"— 1890. 

I  am  not  hypercritical  on  points  of  punctuation; 
A  misplaced  comma  now  and  then  is  surely  not 

a  sin; 

I  overlook  the  sundry  breaks  of  common  conver 
sation 
And  do  my  wincing  inwardly  when  some  "  I 

seen  "  creeps  in. 
To   wretched    double    negatives    some    friends    are 

quite  addicted ; 
They  knife  the  good   King's   English  and   then 

revel  in  its  gore; 

These  crude  idiosyncrasies  are  never  contradicted, 
For    I    would    not    seem   pedantic   or    appear    a 
learned  bore. 

Yet  the  whiskered  proverbs  tell  us,  and  I  know  they 

tell  us  truly, 

That  forbearance  as  a  virtue  cannot  always  be 
construed, 

47 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  the  camel's  dorsal  vertebrae,  if  weighted  down 

unduly, 
Will  sustain  a  compound   fracture  with  a  fatal 

promptitude ; 

And  when  a  college  maiden,  intellectual  and  charm 
ing, 
Sends  me  a  little  perfumed  note,  regretful  in  its 

tone, 
"  To  learn  that  all  your  symptoms  are  especially 

alarming, 
And  the  doctor  fears  that  the  '  la  grippe '  has 

claimed  you  for  its  own  " ; 
Then  I  howl  and  curse  a  little,  and  I  stamp  upon 

the  letter, 
And  I  boil  with  indignation  to  think  that  any 

one, 

Who  long  has  studied  French,  should  not,  appar 
ently,  know  better 
Than  to  write  it  "  the  la  grippe,"  when  but  one 

"  the  "  would  have  done. 
A  break  like  this  affects  me  in  a  manner  almost   • 

fatal, 

'Tis  even  worse  that  the  "  la  grippe  " — 
Hevings !     I  have  gone  and  done  it  myself! 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

THE  COLLEGE  SERENADE 

From  "  The  Fair  Co-Ed." 

When  the  chapel  bell  struck  the  midnight  hour 

And  the  campus  lay  asleep, 

We'd  count  the  strokes  from  the  ivy  tower, 

Then  out  from  our  dens  we'd  creep; 

And  the  guiding  star  in  the  lonely  night 

For  all  of  that  rollicking  crew, 

As  it  gleamed  afar  —  'twas  the  signal  light 

Where  she  waited  for  me  and  you. 

Oh,  sweet  co-ed !     Oh,  college  maid ! 

The  one  we  went  to  serenade. 

Oh,  star-lit  night! 

Oh,  glimpse  of  white, 

At  the  window  overhead ! 

Back,  through  the  years 

Of  smiles  and  tears, 

I'll  dream  of  that  rare  co-ed. 


49 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

MY  EMMALEEN 
From  "Peggy  from  Paris." 

Let  de  boat  swing  down  de  ribber; 

Ah!  swing,  ah!  swing  away! 
Can't  afford  to  leave  mah  only, 

So  heah  I'm  gwine  to  stay. 
All  de  coons  along  de  water-front  am  tryin' 

Foh  to  steal  mah  Emmaleen, 
To  dislocate  mah  happy  home 

And  grab  dis  yellow  queen. 

REFRAIN 

Lovey,  my  dovey  dove 

Ham-bone  can't  compaih. 
Peppehmint  and  wintehgreen 

Not  so  sweet  as  Emmaleen. 

I  can  say  to  all  mah  troubles, 

"  Ah !  fly,  ah !  fly  away !  " 
When  I'm  sitting  by  mah  only, 

That's  whah  I'd  like  to  stay. 
Got  a  voice  as  sweet  as  New  Ohleans  molasses 

An'  I'll  gamble  you  ain't  seen 
Such  incandescent  'lectric  eyes 

As  those  of  Emmaleen. 

50 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


THE  GAMES  WE  USED  TO 
From  "  The  Sho-Gun." 


Back  in  the  golden  days  of  youth, 

On  a  farm  in  I-o-way; 
Happiest  days  of  all  were  they,  — 

If  you  don't  care  what  you  say. 
Nothing  to  do  but  milk  the  cows, 

And  feed  the  gentle  stock, 
And  work  like  a  Turk  from  early  morn 

Till  nearly  eight  o'clock. 
The  only  joy  of  the  country  boy, 

To  fill  his  soul  with  glee, 
On  a  frosty  night,  when  the  moon  shone  bright, 

Away  to  the  husking  bee. 

Go  to  the  East,  go  to  the  West, 

Go  to  the  one  that  you  love  best; 
If  she's  not  here  to  take  your  part, 

Choose  another  with  all  your  heart. 
Dozvn  on  this  carpet  you  must  kneel 

As  sure's  the  grass  grows  in  the  Held, 
Salute  your  bride  and  kiss  her  siveet, 

And  then  you  rise  upon  your  feet. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Oft'  I  recall  the  girl  I  loved, 

In  the  days  of  long  ago ; 
Muscular  maid  of  six  feet  two,    ^ 

With  a  cheek  of  rosy  glow.         J 
I  would  escort  my  Genevieve 

To  many  a  husking  bee, 
And  she  at  the  call  of  "  ladies  choice  " 

Would  always  grab  for  me. 
With  a  sudden  swoop  and  a  merry  whoop, 

She'd  mop  me  'round  the  floor, 
And  though  I'd  resist,  I  was  always  kissed, 

Sing  hey,  for  the  days  of  yore ! 

/  think  I  hear  the  rain-crow  say, 

I  think  I  hear  the  rain-crow  say, 
I  think  I  hear  the  rain-crow  say, 

"  It  ain't  a-goin'  to  rain  no  more." 
Swing  your  true  love,  swing  her  back  again, 

Swing  your  true  love,  swing  her  back  again, 
Swing  your  true  love,  swing  her  back  again, 

It  ain't  a-goin'  to  rain  no  more. 

Best  of  the  pleasures  that  we  knew, 

In  the  days  that  now  have  fled, 
Snuggled  so  warm  and  holding  hands, 

In  the  big  old-time  bob-sled. 
Calico  damsels  just  as  proud 

As  any  queen  in  silk, 

52 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  we  didn't  take  them  out  to  dine, 

They  lived  on  mush  and  milk. 
But  the  noisy  fun  when  the  work  was  done, 

And  the  cider  flowing  free, 
With  a  "  balance  all,"  at  the  fiddler's  call, 

We'd  swing  in  the  jamboree. 

\\    , 

I  long  and  sigh  for  the  days  gone  by, 

I  pine  for  the  rustic  charm 
Of  the  dear  old  games,  the  queer  old  gashes 

We  played  down  on  the  farm. 


"  NOOVO  RISHE  "  6^ 
Written  for  "  The  Old  Town."    Sent  back.     Too/libelous. 

Mrs,  B.: 

From  out  a  canon  in  the  West  I  came  with  colors 

flying, 

To  meet  the  people  known  as  "  best,"  or  strain  my 
self  while  trying; 
I   know   I'm   handicapped   by   fate,   and   shy   on 

social  training, 

Though  I  got  off  a  trifle  late,  I'm  going  some 
and  gaining. 

53 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Jo-ann  of  Arc  once  set  a  mark  that  caused  a  lot 

of  talk, 
But  give  me  room  to  start  a  boom,  I'll  beat  her 

in  a  walk. 
A   woman  who   is   nifty,   who   is   up   to   date  and 

shifty, 

Can  start  the  game  at  fifty,  with  millions  at  her 
call. 

CHORUS 

This  matron  is  possessed  of  nerve,  and  very  wide 
awake. 

Mrs.  B.: 

I'll   study   ev'ry   social   curve   and   overcome   each 

break. 

I  am  wild  to  be  like  Marie  Antoinette 
With  a  grand  saloon  for  just  the  toppy  set; 
I  would  like  to  say,  "  Mon  ami-Voulez  vous  com- 

pr&nez  jammy  " 

Which  is  all  the  French  that  I  have  learned  as  yet. 
It  has  also  been  my  very  ardent  wish, 
To  stand  in  line  along  with  Mrs.  Fish. 
I  am  tired  of  hotel  cooking,  for  a  Newport  house 

I'm  looking, 
And  I  want  to  get  away  from  all  the  noovo  rishe. 

Mrs.  B.: 

We  landed  in  the  great  big  town,  without  a  maid 
or  valey, 

54 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Each  evening  we  strolled  up  and  down  that  gor 
geous  peacock  alley. 
The   elevator   man   was   nice,    the   waiters   were 

congenial : 
But  still  we  didn't  cut  much  ice,  unless  we  tipped 

a  menial. 
We'd  see  the  bunch  come  in  to  lunch,  they  called 

it  day-jho-nay, 
I  made  a  vow  that  I  somehow  would  know  them 

all  some  day. 
A  woman   who   is  clever,   and   works   each   social 

lever, 

Must  bide  her  time  and  never  be  worried  by  a 
snub. 

CHORUS 

This  matron  started  in  to  climb,  it  was  a  fearful 
task. 

Mrs.  B.: 

I  met  the  proper  sort  in  time,  if  any  one  should 
ask. 

I  am  trying  hard  to  shake  my  western  burr 

And  a  woman's  hired  to  make  me  talk  like  her. 
When  I'm  seated  at  a  table  I  am  proud  to  say  I'm 

able, 
To  pick  out  each  kind  of  fork  without  a  slur. 

I  have  learned  that  if  I  wish  to  be  "  katish  " 

And  to  occupy  a  really  good  posish, 

55 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I   must   be   persona  gratin   to   the   blue   blood   of 

Manhattan, 
So  I  long  to  get  away  from  all  the  noovo  rishe. 


LOVE,  YOU  MUST  BE  BLIND 
From  "  The  Sho-Gun." 

Tell  me  if  you  can,  the  rule  by  which  a  man 
Selects  his  worse  or  better  half. 

Truly  it  would  seem  to  be  a  lott'ry  scheme, 
The  prizes  often  make  one  laugh. 

The  woman  slim  and  thin  and  tall, 

Will  love  a  human  butter  ball; 
While  one  who's  round  and  plump  and  fat, 

Adores  some  one  as  tall  as  that. 
The  author  of  a  learned  book, 

Is  sometimes  wedded  to  his  cook; 
The  girl  who's  frivolous  and  gay, 

Picks  out  a  meek  Y.  M.  C.  A. 
The  statesman  with  ambition  high, 

Will  choose  a  social  butterfly; 
The  Charley  kind  of  mamma's  pet 

Pursues  the  elderly  soubrette. 
You've  seen  the  beauty  linked  by  fate 

To  freckled  Fred,  whose  eyes  don't  mate. 

56 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

The  broker  worships  as  a  queen, 

The  blonde  who  plays  a  Smith  machine. 


The  howling  swell  will  court  a  peach, 

All  paint  and  powder,  pads  and  bleach; 
And  dainty  Dottie,  small  and  neat, 

Loves  awkward  John,  all  hands  and  feet. 
The  man  who  sixty  years  has  seen, 

Gets  mashed  on  something  just  sixteen; 
The  stylish  maid,  divinely  fair, 

A  fiddling  freak  with  lots  of  hair. 
A  well-bred  heiress  will  elope 

With  one  who  uses  scented  soap ; 
While  gray-haired  widows  oft  amaze 

By  taking  tender  boys  to  raise. 
The  pious  deacon  gets  roped  in 

By  Gertie  gay,  who  wants  his  tin; 
The  kind  that  wholesale  men  adore, 

Don't  know  that  two  and  two  make  four. 

Cupid  leaves  all  rules  behind 
Funny  married  folks  we  find, 

Love,  ah,  Love !  you  must  be  blind. 


57 


- 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


BENEVOLENT  ASSIMILATION 


From  "  The  Sultan  of  Sulu."    Sung  by  a  chorus  of 
American  soldiers. 

We  haven't  the  appearance,  goodness  knows, 

Of  plain  commercial  men; 
From  a  hasty  glance,  you  might  suppose 

We  are  fractious  now  and  then. 
But  though  we  come  in  warlike  guise 

And  battle-front  arrayed, 
It's  all  a  business  enterprise  — 

We're  seeking  foreign  trade. 

We  want  to  assimilate,  if  we  can, 

Our  brother  who  is  brown; 
We  love  our  dusky  fellow-man 

And  we  hate  to  hunt  him  down. 
So,  when  we  perforate  his  frame, 

We  want  him  to  be  good. 
We  shoot  at  him  to  make  him  tame, 

If  he  but  understood. 

REFRAIN 

We're  as  mild  as  any  turtle-dove 

When  we  see  the  foe  a-coming, 
Our  thoughts  are  set  on  human  love 

When  we  hear  the  bullets  humming. 

58 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

We  teach  the  native  pppulation 
What  the  golden  rule  is  like, 

And  we  scatter  public  education 
On  ev'ry  blasted  hike! 


SHE'S  JUST  A  LITTLE  DIFFERENT 
From  "  The  Sho-Gun" 

In  a  wood  lived  Brother  Rabbit, 
Of  a  most  flirtatious  habit, 

He  would  wag  his  ears  at  ev'ry  Bunny  that  he'd 

meet. 

No  one  in  the  world  of  fashion, 
Thought  him  capable  of  passion 

Till  one   day  he  up  and  took   a  little  wife   so 

sweet. 

On  the  wedding  day  his  sister 
Met  the  happy  bride  and  kissed  her, 

But  like  ev'ry   sister   she   was   doubtful   of  the 

match. 

For  she  whispered  to  her  brother, 
"  I'd  have  chosen  any  other, 

She  is  not  entitled  to  the  season's  only  catch." 
Brother  Rabbit  simply  said; 

"  She's  the  one  I  want  to  wed ; 

59 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  to  all  who  ask  me  why, 

I  can  only  make  reply : 
'  She's  just  a  little  diff'rent  from  the  others  that  I 

know, 
Her  smile  is  more  beguiling  and  her  voice  is  soft 

and  low. 

No  other  may  discover  why  I  dote  upon  her  so, 
She's  just  a  little  diff'rent  from  the  others  that 
I  know.'" 

Brother  Rabbit  doubtless  knew  some 
Friends  who  came  with  faces  grewsome, 

Saying  to  him,  "  Well,  old  man,  it  seems  a  great 

mistake ; 

For  this  most  designing  Bunny 
Simply  took  you  for  your  money, 

We  are  sorry  you  have  made  this  matrimonial 

break." 

I  suppose  that  each  relation 
Showed  a  certain  hesitation, 

When    it    came    to    throwing    rice    and    wishing 

longest  life; 

And  when  I,  like  Brother  Rabbit, 
Seek  your  hand  and  quickly  grab  it, 

All  my  friends  will  wonder  why  I  chose  you  for 

my  wife. 

To  these  skeptics  I  will  say 
"  She  has  won  my  heart  away ; 

60 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  if  you  would  ask  me  why, 
I  can  only  make  reply : 

'  She's  just  a  little  difFrent,  etc.' " 


OH,  WHAT  A  BUMP! 

From  "  The  Sultan  of  Sulu."    Sung  by  Mr.  Jones,  Col. 
Budd  and  Ki-Ram,  the  Sultan. 

JONES 

At  a  musicale,  a  five-o'clock, 

Or  social  jamboree, 
'Tis  there  the  swagger  people  flock 
For  a  bite  and  a  sip  of  tea; 

And  this  is  what  you  hear: 
"  It's  been  a  charming  afternoon ; 

Delighted,  don't  you  know; 
Sorry  I  have  to  leave  so  soon, 
But  really  I  must  go." 
But  after  she's  away 
In  her  coupe, 
What  does  this  self-same  woman  say? 

KI-RAM    AND    BUDD 

Well,  what  does  she  say? 

61 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

JONES 

"  That  was  the  tackiest  time  I've  had 

In  twenty  years  or  more. 
The  crowd  was  jay  and  the  tea  was  bad 
And  the  whole  affair  a  bore !  " 

TRIO 

Oh,  what  a  bump  !     Alackaday ! 

'Twotild  darken  her  whqle  career, 
Could  the  hostess  know  what  people  say 

When  she's  not  there,  to  hear. 

BUDD 

The  bashful  youth  who's  rather  slow 

When  he  has  made  a  call, 
Receives  a  message,  soft  and  low, 
At  parting  in  the  hall. 

And  this  is  what  she  says: 
"  Now  come  as  often  as  you  can. 

I  love  these  little  larks. 
It's  seldom  that  I  meet  a  man 

Who  makes  such  bright  remarks." 
But  when  he  tears  away 
From  this  fairy  fay, 
What  does  the  artful  maiden  say? 

62 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

KI-RAM    AND    JONES 

Well,  what  does  she  say? 

BUDD 

"  Of  all  the  dummies  I  ever  met 

He's  the  limit,  and  no  mistake. 
As  a  touch-me-not  and  mamma's  pet, 
That  Johnnie  takes  the  cake." 

TRIO 

Oh,  what  a  bump  !     Alackaday ! 

'Twould  darken  his  whole  career, 
Could  Harold  know  what  Mabel  says 

When  he's  not  there  to  hear. 

KI-RAM 

Did  you  ever  feel  like  saying  — ! 

When  some  precocious  brat 
Recites  a  piece  called  "  Mary's  Lamb  " 
Or  "  Little  Pussy  Cat  "  ? 

And  this  is  what  you  say : 
"  What  marvelous  talent  she  does  possess 

For  one  of  her  tender  age. 
I  think  she'd  make  a  great  success 
If  you'd  put  her  on  the  stage." 

61 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

But  later  in  the  day, 
When  you  get  away, 
What  do  you  then  proceed  to  say? 


BUDD   AND   JONES 

Well,  what  do  you  say? 

KI-RAM 

"  If  that  awful  kid  belonged  to  me, 

I'll  tell  you  what  I'd  do  — 
I'd  keep  it  under  lock  and  key 
And  spank  it  black  and  blue." 

TRIO 

Oh,  what  a  bump  !     Alackaday ! 

'Twould  darken  the  child's  career, 
Could  parents  know  what  callers  say 

When  they're  not  there  to  hear. 

JONES 

Perhaps  the  most  terrific  bump 

Is  found  in  politics. 
The  campaign  speaker  on  the  stump 

Is  up  to  all  the  tricks, 
And  this  is  what  he  says: 

64 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

"  Oh,  fellow-citizens,  I  see 
Before  me  here  to-day 
The  sovereign  voters,  pure  and  free, 
Whom  I  shall  e'er  obey." 
But  when  he's  won  the  race. 
Gets  a  nice,  fat  place, 
What  does  the  people's  servant  say? 

KI-RAM    AND    BUDD 

Well,  what  does  he  say? 
JONES 

3 

"  Well,  maybe  I  didn't  con  those  yaps 

With  that  patriotic  bluff. 
Now  that  I've  landed  one  of  the  snap: 
I'm  going  to  get  the  stuff." 

TRIO 

Oh,  what  a  bump  !     Alackaday ! 

'Twould  darken  their  whole  career, 
Could  voters  know  what  bosses  say  ' 

When  they're  not  there  to  hear. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


THE  IRREPRESSIBLE  YANKtX 

From  "  The  Sho-Gun."    Sung  by  Mr.  Spangle,  the  Amer 
ican  promoter. 

Wherever  British  drumbeats  sound, 

Unending  'round  the  world; 
Wherever  in  some  land  new-found, 

Our  starry  flag's  unfurled; 
Where'er  the  sun  is  known  to  shine, 

Or  winds  consent  to  blow, 
These  nimble  countrymen  of  mine, 

On  business  errands  go. 
In  southern  isles,  where  nature  smiles, 

They  sell  the  "  ham  what  am." 
Upon  some  cliff  of  Teneriffe 

You'll  read,  "  Don't  be  a  clam." 
In  England,  Ireland,  Scotland,  Wales, 

We  show  our  goods  and  make  our  sales, 
No  other  drummer  can  outrank 

The. bold  and  enterprising  Yank. 

REFRAIN 

Yankee,    Yankee,    Yankee,    Yankee,    Irrepressible 

Yank, 

A  regular  traveling  board  of  trade, 
And  a  two-legged  sort  of  a  bank, 

66 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

If  you  deal  with  him  and  don't  get  left, 
Your  lucky  stars  you'll  thank. 

This    Yankee,    Yankee,    Yankee,    Yankee,    Irre 
pressible  Yank. 

We  under-bid  the  foreign  trade, 

Wherever  we  may  roam; 
Our  largest  profit's  always  made 

On  what  we  sell  at  home. 
In  foreign  lands  we've  left  behind 

The  German  and  the  Scotch, 
Each  Zulu  warrior  now  can  wind 

His  Waterbury  watch. 
In  Tokio,  and  Borneo, 

And  where  Euphrates  winds, 
The  natives  munch  each  day  for  lunch, 

Our  fifty-seven  kinds. 
In  Egypt  now  the  Arab  chief, 

Goes  armed  with  cans  of  potted  beef; 
And  rides,  instead  of  camels  slow, 

An  auto  car  from  Kokomo. 

The  savage  in  the  jungle  deep 

We  corner  in  his  lair; 
And  sell  at  prices-  very  cheap, 

Our  new  health  underwear. 
And  where  the  borealis  gleams 

Amid  the  ice  and  snow, 

67 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

We  work  some  very  foxy  schemes 

Upon  the  Eskimo. 
In  Mandalay  and  Uruguay, 

And  o'er  the  Andes  range, 
Each  distant  spot,  through  us  has  got 

A  telephone  exchange. 
In  Singapore  and  Zanzibar, 

We  plant  the  merry  trolley  car, 
And  Honolulu  now  has  seen 

Our  nickel-in-the-slot  machine. 


THE  FOUNTAIN  OF  YOUTH 

Written  for  the  National  Convention  of  the  Sigma  Chi 
fraternity  at  Jamestozvn,  Virginia,  1907. 

You'll  recall,  if  you're  strong  on  historical-  stuff, 
The  name  of  that  highly  deluded  old  fluff 
Who  chartered  a  schooner  and  sailed  o'er  the  sea  — 
Long  after  Columbus,  but  long  before  me  — 
Through  primeval  forests  he  went  on  a  quest 
Of  the  fountain  of  youth  lying  far  to  the  west; 
For  it  seems  that  a  sailor,  who  knew  how  to  string, 
Had  told  this  old  man  of  a  magical  spring, 
Which  would  change  any  withered  emeritus  prof 
To  a  lusty  and  vigorous  freshman  or  soph. 

68 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

So  he  came  and  he  searched  —  oh,  you  must  know 

his  name, 
The  text-books  have  boomed  him  and  given  him 

fame; 

Was  it  Balboa  ?     No.     Or  De  Soto  ?     Great  Scott ! 
All  the  Ridpath  I  studied  I  quickly  forgot.      *- 
No  matter  —  he  firmly  believed  in  the  myth  — 
It    was    not    Hendrik    Hudson    or    Captain    John 

Smith  — 
Hold    on!     Ponce    de    Leon!     I    knew    it    would 

come  — 
He  thought  that  this  fountain  of  youth  would  help 

some; 

So  he  landed  and  built  on  the  Jacksonville  line 
A  high-priced  hotel  that  is  still  doing  fine. 
Then  he  said  to  his  followers,  "  Boys,  on  your  way ; 
I  must  run  down  that  fountain  without  much  delay, 
For  I'm  just  about  in  —  I'm  a  thing  of  the  past, 
And  unless  I'm  patched  up,  I'm  afraid  I  can't  last." 
Now  the  histories  tell  that  his  search  was  in  vain 
And  instead  of  returning  in  triumph  to  Spain, 
A  cocky  young  blade  of  about  twenty-three; 
He  got  lost  in  the  mountains  of  east  Tennessee; 
Got  stung  by  mosquitoes  —  which  gave  him  the 

shakes  — 

Got  shot  at  by  Injuns  and  hissed  at  by  snakes; 
Got  tired  and  disgusted;  got  most  everything 
Except  the  address  of  that  wonderful  spring. 

69 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

So  he  took  the  back  trail  through  the  jungle  and 

brake, 

Convinced  that  the  mariner's  yarn  was  a  fake; 
And  he  died  in  the  orthodox  manner,  we're  told, 
Which  is  often  the  finish  of  those  who  grow  old. 


PART   SECOND 

The  sequel,  I'm  certain,  you  never  have  heard. 
It  is  mystical,  fanciful,  never  occurred; 
It  is  supposititious  —  a  very  good  word  — 
It  is  purely  fictitious  —  but  still  it's  a  bird. 
They  buried  the  shell  of  this  doughty  old  don, 
But  his  resolute  spirit  kept  marching  right  on; 
The  ghostly,  intangible  knight  of  Castile 
Continued  the  search  with  persistence  and  zeal. 
Through  years  and  through  decades  and  centuries 

too, 
He  roamed  through  the  hemisphere  still  known  as 

new, 

And  sought,  with  Diogenes'  patience,  the  spring 
Where  Methusaleh  might,  as  a  giddy  young  thing 
Have  continued  to  bloom  for  a  thousand  years  more 
Until   old    Father   Time   would   get   tired   keeping 

score. 

He  was  kept  rather  busy,  for  ev'ry  few  days 
He  would  read  in  a  folder  the  unstinted  praise 
70 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Of  this  or  that  spring  with  a  live-dollar  rate, 
Which  would  cure  almost  any  disease  while  you 

wait. 

Each  one,  from  Mt.  Clemens  to  far  Manitou 
Guaranteed  to  make  old  people  look  just  like  new. 
So  he  tested  them  all,  and  at  every  resort, 
He  found  people  drinking  the  stuff  by  the  quart; 
But  at  Hot  Springs,  Arkansas,   and  even   French 

Lick 

They  were  old  and  shot-up  and  disabled  and  sick; 
Not  one  of  them  happy  and  hearty  and  young; 
All  lean  and  dyspeptic  —  with  fur  on  the  tongue. 
Can  you  blame  him  for  doubting  the  absolute  truth 
Of  the  legend  regarding  the  fountain  of  youth? 
Wherever  he  journeyed,  this  rule  seemed  to  hold : 
That  the  young  must  be  young  and  the  old  must 

be  old. 

In  nineteen-ought-seven  he  came  to  a  spot 
Way  down  in  Virginia  —  the  weather  was  hot  — 
The  time  was  midsummer;  the  flags  were  unfurled, 
And  tourists  were  flocking  from  half  of  the  world. 
There  were  strange  foreign  people  of  most  every 

race, 

And   Ponce  thought   he'd   struck  a  new  watering- 
place  ; 
Though  he  judged  from  the  hurrah  and  laughter 

and  fun 
That  twenty  "  resorts  "  had  been  rolled  into  one. 

71 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

He  sought  the  headquarters  for  all  of  the  noise 
And  there  he  discovered  a  great  crowd  of  boys, 
All  seated  at  tables,  and  whooping  it  up 
While  quenching  their  thirst  from  a  big  loving-cup, 
Which  never  ran  empty,  though  score  upon  score 
Drank   deep    and    drank   often   and    clamored    for 

more. 

And  strange  to  relate,  as  the  cup  went  around, 
The  old  boys  began  to  get  up  and  expound ; 
They  laughed  at  the  jokes  and  they  joined  in  each 

song 

And  if  trouble  was  started  they  helped  it  along. 
For  would  you  believe  it,  though  some  in  that  room 
Seemed  old  and  decrepit  and  marked  for  the  tomb, 
The  magical  cup  took  them  back  to  their  teens 
By  some  supernatural  method  or  means; 
Until  doctor,  professor  and  lawyer  and  sage, 
Arrived  at  a  most  irresponsible  age. 
The  traveler  came  to  our  most  worthy  "  C  " 
And  politely  requested  the  prize  recipe : 
"  Pray  tell  me  what  fluid  your  flagon  may  hold, 
That  brings  crimson  youth  to  the  weary  and  old." 
The  consul  gave  answer :     "  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
We're  simply  imbibing  the  Spirit  of  Youth; 
Our  own  preparation,  we  keep  it  on  tap 
And  furnish  it  freely  to  ev'ry  good  chap; 
He  drinks,  and  his  boyhood  returns  on  the  fly, 
It's    a   pure    food    concoction,    and   called    '  Sigma 

Chi.' " 

72 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I  LIKE  YOU,  LIL 

From  "Peggy  from  Paris." 


I  t'ought  I  was  hep  to  the  whole  string  o'  fairies 

Not  one  o'  the  bunch  could  put  me  to  the  bad; 
I'd  mingled  a  lot  with  your  Mauds  and  your  Car 
ries, 

If  one  tried  to  kid  she  was  sorry  she  had. 
But  ev'ry  fly  mug  gets  it  sooner  or  later, 

I  know  that  this  calico  game  is  no  cinch 
Since  I  met  at  the  ten,  twent  an'  t'irty  t'eater 

The  cause  of  me  trouble,  Miss  Lily  Ann  Lynch. 

When  I  caught  a  flash  me,  the  real  Foxy  Quiller  ! 

Thinks  I  to  meself,  "  Lily  Ann,  you're  all  right;  " 
I  says  to  the  gang  :     "  Watch  me  stroll  up  and  kill 

'er, 
I'll  cop  out  that  princess,  —  she's  mine  from  to 

night." 

But  sa-a-y  when  I  tried  to  get  new  wit'  Miss  Lily, 
She  come  back  so  hard,  me  kazing!  —  to  the  mat  ; 
An'  now  I'm  as  tame  as  a  clothin'  store  Willie, 
She's  got  me  trained  proper,  take  my  word  for 
that. 

Lil,  I  like  you,  Lil,  I  do, 

I  don't  mind  tellin'  this  to  you. 

73 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

It's  no  case  o'  stringin',  Lil 
For  you've  got  me  wingin',  still 
I  like  you,  Lil,  for  fair. 


LITTLE  MOOZOO-MAY 

From  "  The  S  ho -Gun." 

The  rose  of  June  can  feel  no  sorrow, 

It  never  droops  or  says  "  Ah  me !  " 
It  never  sees  a  sad  to-morrow, 

But  greets  each  day  with  rapture  free. 
Why  should  a  girl  so  young  and  charming, 

Be  less  confiding  than  the  rose? 
For  me  this  life  holds  naught  alarming, 

Each  morning  will  new  joys  disclose. 
I'm  like  the  rose  that  blooms  in  June. 

I  give  no  thought  to  afternoon. 
Like  a  rosebud  red  I  can  hang  my  head, 

I  can  sway  and  pose  like  the  drooping  rose. 
But  I'm  not  the  flow'r  of  a  passing  hour, 

I'm  a  happy  little  singing  girl, 
I'm  a  jolly,  pleasure-bringing  girl. 

REFRAIN 

Dainty  little  Moozoo-May, 
Clever  little  Moozoo-May, 

74 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

When  the  shamosen  I'm  playing, 
Come  the -men  from  far  and  near; 

Most  bewitching  Moozoo-May, 
Quite  entrancing  Moozoo-May, 

Fascinating,  captivating, 
Little  Moozoo-May. 


The  rose  of  June  is  not  retiring, 

It  wears  a  manner  most  serene, 
And  smiles  on  other  buds  aspiring 

To  be  as  lovely  as  their  queen. 
Why  should  a  girl  of  matchless  beauty, 

Her  many  charming  traits  disown? 
If  she  excels  it  is  her  duty 

To  lift  her  head  and  bloom  alone. 
I'm  like  the  rose  in  this  respect.  • 

A  fragrant  thing  without  defect. 
Like  a  rosebud  red  I  can  hang  my  head, 

I  can  sway  and  pose  like  the  drooping  rose. 
But  I'm  not  the  flow'r  of  a  passing  hour, 

I'm  a  happy  little  singing  girl, 
I'm  a  jolly,  pleasure-bringing  girl. 


75 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I  AM  " YOURS  TRULY " 

From  "  The  Sho-Gun." 

How  often  in  this  careless  life 

A  word  but  lightly  spoken, 
By  magic  of  a  love  sincere, 

Becomes  a  blessed  token. 
The  formal  message  that  I  send  to  you 

Would  thrill  your  very  soul  if  you  but  knew, 
That  ev'ry  word  I  write  is  more  than  true  — 

"  I  am,  I  am  yours  truly." 

REFRAIN 

I  am,  I  am  yours  truly, 

And  will  be  ever  more, 
The  meaning  of  those  simple  words 

I  never  knew  before. 
Time  cannot  change  my  deep  devotion, 

Steadfast  my  heart  shall  be, 
I  am,  I  am  yours  truly, 

My  soul  belongs  to  thee! 

The  words  we  speak  in  idle  jest 
Our  secret  thoughts  are  screening, 

Exchanging  vows  of  deep  concern 
In  terms  that  have  no  meaning. 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  yet,  at  times,  the  clasp  of  friendly  hand 
Appeals  far  more  than  duty's  loud  command. 

And  so  I  pray  that  she  may  understand, 
I  am,  I  am  hers  truly. 


FLUTTER,  LITTLE  BIRD 

From  "  The  Sho-Gun." 


Observe  the  loving  mother  bird, 

Up  in  the  spreading  tree, 
Correct  with  stern  but  loving  word, 

Her  tender  chickadee. 
The  feathered  youngster  tries  to  flap 

His  embryonic  wings, 
While  mother  cheers  the  little  chap, 

As  to  the  bough  he  clings. 
He  makes  a  most  heroic  jump, 

Alas,  it  is  in  vain, 
She  says :     "  Don't  mind  a  little  bump, 

Just  try  it  once  again." 

Flutter,  little  bird  and  keep  on  trying, 
By  and  by  you  will  be  flying; 

You  can  do  it,  take  my  word, 
Keep  on  fluttering,  little  bird. 

77 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


ii 

At  dinner  parties  you  have  met 

Young  Mister  Parvenu, 
Who  views  the  knives  and  forks  and  spoons, 

And  wonders  what  to  do. 
He  eats  the  blue  points  with  a  spoon, 

For  fish  he'll  use  a  knife, 
He  can't  pick  out  the  salad  fork, 

To  save  his  mortal  life. 
At  last  the  demi  tasse  is  served, 

A  la  Martin's,  New  York, 
The  only  tool  that  he  has  left, 

One  lonely  oyster  fork. 

Flutter,  little  bird  and  keep  on  trying, 

By  and  by  you  will  be  flying; 
Watch  the  hostess,  mum's  the  word, 

Keep  on  fluttering,  little  bird. 

in 

You've  seen  the  man  from  up  the  road, 

With  lots  of  ready  cash; 
Who  takes  a  suite  at  ten  per  day 

And  hopes  to  cut  a  dash. 
His  dinner  coat  is  very  short, 

His  hat  is  very  high, 

78 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

The  fourteen  karat  stud  he  wears, 

Will  blind  each  passer-by. 
But  ignorance  with  him  is  bliss, 

And  he's  a  happy  man, 
Although  his  tie  is  ready-made, 

And  shoes  are  russet  tan. 

Flutter,  little  bird  and  keep  on  trying, 
By  and  by  you  will  be  flying; 

All  beginners  look  absurd, 
Keep  on  fluttering,  little  bird. 


IV 

The  woman  who  is  up-to-date,      \ 

Must  join  a  reading  club, 
Where  matrons  meet  to  analyze, 

The  popular  flub-dub. 
It's  hard  on  Mrs.  Malaprop, 

Who  used  to  be  a  cook, 
And  until  hubby  struck  it  rich, 

Had  never  read  a  book. 
She  thinks  that  Kipling  wrote  "  Be^ucaire/ 

And  can't  get  in  her  head, 
Why  Shakespeare  doesn't  write  more  books,- 

She  doesn't  know  he's  dead.       / 

Flutter,  little  bird  and  keep  on  trying, 
By  and  by  you  will  be  flying; 

79 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Clubs  are  helpful,  so  I've  heard, 
Keep  on  fluttering,  little  bird. 


Though  politics  may  loudly  buzz 

Each  candidate  has  vowed 
To  seldom  think,  and  if  he  does, 

To  never  think  out  loud. 
He  simply  sits  in  solemn  state 

And  lets  his  friends  explain 
That  he's  the  only  candidate 

Who's  truly  safe  and  sane. 

fe  has  a  very  deep  regard 
For  ev'ry  son  of  toil, 
nd  yet  he  would  not  be  too  hard 
On  friends  of  Standard  Oil- 
Flutter,  little  bird  and  keep  on  trying, 

By  and  by  you  will  be  flying; 

Just  look  wise  —  don't  say  a  word, 

Keep  on  fluttering,  little  bird. 


VI 


Of  all  the  birds  that  fly  the  air, 
/       The  jay-bird  is  the  best; 
/     He  comes  from  almost  anywhere 
I          Out  in  the  boundless  west. 

^—  so 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

He  wants  to  learn  to  speculate, 

The  ticker  he  would  beat; 
He  strikes  a  most  terrific  gait, 

And  dazzles  all  the  street. 
He  causes  all  the  stocks  to  jump 

Until  there  comes  a  day, 
When  some  wise  bird  decides  to  dump 

And  that's  the  end  of  Jay. 

Flutter,  little  bird  and  keep  on  trying, 
By  and  by  you  will  be  flying; 

Though  you're  long  on  Steel  Preferred, 
Keep  on  fluttering,  little  bird. 


HENNY 

From  "Peggy  from  Paris." 

One  day  I  went  to  a  Saengerfest 

On  the  banks  of  the  dear  old  Rhine. 
I  wore  a  badge  upon  my  breast 

Of  the  Sweinburg  Turn-Verein 
The  band  was  playing  a  lieber  tune 

And  the  music  was  soft  and  sweet, 
I  heard  the  sound  of  that  bassoon 

And  my  heart  began  to  beat. 
8l 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

My  Henny  played  a  Solo 

That  day  on  the  beautiful  Rhine, 
And  while  he  played  hi-lee,  hi-lo, 

He  won  this  heart  of  mine. 


REFRAIN 

Henny,  oh,  Henny,  come  to  me, 
Across  the  wet  and  salty  sea. 

I'm  longing  for  the  happy  day 

When  I  can  hear  my  Henny  play : 

Dii,  du,  ligst  mir  im  herzen, 
Du,  du,  ligst  mir  im  sinn. 

I  lost  my  heart  when  I  heard  that  tune 
That  Henny  played  on  his  big  bassoon. 

My  Henny  he  was  a  chubby  boy 

And  his  eyes  they  were  baby  blue. 
For  months  he  was  my  pride  and  joy 

And  I  thought  his  love  was  true. 
One  night  I  strolled  in  the  public  park 

For  I  hoped  to  find  him  there. 
I  heard  from  out  the  woods  so  dark 

That  old  familiar  air., 
My  Henny  played  a  solo 

That  night  on  the  beautiful  Rhine 
And  seated  close  beside  him  was 

A  lady  friend  of  mine. 

82 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 


REFRAIN 

Henny,  oh,  Henny,  what  a  blow, 
My  lady  friend  she  stole  my  beau. 

Weeping  and  'sad  I  turned  away 
And  as  I  went  I  heard  him  play: 

Du,  du,  ligst  mir  ini  herzen, 
Du,  du,  ligst  mir  im  sinn. 

My  heart  it  broke  when  I  heard  the  tune 
That  Henny  played  on  his  big  bassoon. 


EVERY-DAY  HAPPENINGS  IN  BLANKEST^ 
VERSE 

From  The  Chicago  Record  — 1898. 
CHICAGO   CASTANETS 

Through  all  the  moving  thoroughfares 
And  in  the  contending  marts  of  trade; 
Within  the  babbling  magazines  and 
Even  as  I  rode  the  surcharged  vehicles 
Which  rolled  at  dizzy  onwardness 
Without  the  impulse  of  the  harnessed  steed; 
During  the  waking  hours,  bewhiles 
I  battled  with  the  reckless  wind 

83 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

And  closed  my  eyes  against  the  tossing  clouds 

Of  vitrified  disturbance,  soot,  dust, 

Tattered  papyrus  and  all  the  medleyed  rubbish 

Of  the  city's  ways; 

All  this  time,  as  I  again  declare, 

And  likewise  in  the  night,  when  I, 

In  company  with  highty-ti  revelers, 

Did  run  with  bunches  of  anticipation 

Toward  the  gleaming  letters  far  above 

The  portals  of  Thespis'  temple; 

And  later  yet,  when  all  we  creatures  of  the  night 

Did  seek  our  warm  retreats 

To  feast  on  rabbits,  explosive  salads 

And  the  clammy  crabmeat  of  commerce; 

All  during  this  long  while,  as  I  do  now 

Most  solemnly  and  fearfully  asseverate, 
/There  came  to  my  ear,  with  never  pause, 
/  A  soft  and  hollow  rattle. 
I  At  times,  methought,  'twas  like  the 
V Spilling  of  many  dead  men's  bones 

In  the  adjoining  vault.     Again, 

It  seemed  more  like  the  tapping 

Of  distant  castanets  —  a  dream 

Of  dark-eyed  Spanish  women,   soiled  and  superb, 

Who  moved  in  jerky  measures  while 

The  yellow  dust  rose  to  obscure 

The  fierce  colors.     But,  truth  to  tell, 

'Twas  neither.     Clickety-click,  clickety-click, 

84 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

I  heard  it  yet  again,  and  I  asked: 

"  Is  this  some  dread  distemper  of  the  brain, 

Some  fungus  growth  in  my  imaginings? 

Do  I  alone  of  mortal  men  distinguish 

This  smothered  clatter,  hidden,  elusive?" 

When  I  did  full  relate  my  fears 

To  the  good  ^Esculapius,  he  said: 

"  Fear  not ;  'twas  actual  sound  you  heard, 

And  you  are  not,  as  you  might  well  suppose, 

Entirely  separated  from  your  trolley." 

Continuing,  then,  with  kindly  air,  he  told: 

"  The  tiny  rattling  sounds  which  do  attend 

You  and  all  others  in  this  wintry  clime, 

Are  the  concussions  of  the  quinine  pellet 

Tossing  within  its  pasteboard  cage ; 

For  know  you  well  that  all  men, 

Likewise  the  women  and  the  tender  young, 

The  aged  and  infirm  no  more  than  those 

Who  claim  youth's  lusty  strength, 

The  plain  and  eke  the  fair, 

The  rich  and  humble,  frugal  and 

Improvident,  all,  all,  carry  concealed 

The  potent  ammunition  of  the  season; 

And  as  they  move  upon  their  daily 

Occupations,  you  hear  from  underneath 

Their  woolen  garments,  toward  the  Jaeger  depths, 

Muffled  and  yet  distinct,  and  always  rhythmical, 

'  Clickety-click,  clickety-click,  clickety-click,' 

85 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

The  tattoo  of  the  quinine  pellet. 

Join  all  the  others  —  take  my  solemn  tip, 

Prepare  to  meet  thine  enemy,  the  grip." 

THE    STEWED    SAMARITAN 

Within  a  house  of  public  entertainment 
There  sat  an  ebon  slave  close  at  the  foot 
Of  a  heavy  chair  topping  a  broad  dais. 
The  man  sat  motionless,  gazing  pensive 
At  nothingness,  yet  all  the  while 
He  thought  of  numbers.     Thus  to  sit 
And  think  was,  so  his  master  averred, 
One  of  the  best  things  he  did. 
While  he  was  so  benumbed  and  lost 
In  fruitless  meditation,  there  came, 
Stepping  heavily  and  breathing  most  loud, 
A  traveler  in  gay  attire,  who  chanced  to  be 
At  this,  the  period  of  our  simple  tale, 
The  custodian,  guard,  manager,  executor, 
Captain,  director  and  immediate  chief 
Of  a  comely  and  well-developed  jag. 
With  a  proprietary  and  assertive  air 
He  climbed  into  the  seat  of  honor, 
And,  with  thick  utterance,  and,  be  it  said, 
A  slack  politeness,  bade  the  Senegambian 
Remove  from  his  sandals  all  trace  of  stain 
Or  disfiguration.     Promptly  the  youth  obeyed, 
And  when  his  task  was  ended 

86 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

The  generous  traveler  laid  within 

The  dusky  palm  a  silver  quartern, 

And,  with  yammering  utterance,  asked 

The  simple  child  of  Afric'  far  transported 

To  lead  him  to  the  barber's  velvet  seat. 

Lying  at  ease  within  the  odored  room, 

He  slept  in  peace  the  while  he  yet  received 

Kindly  caresses  and  vapory  ablution. 

Roused  and  sent  forth,  he  viewed, 

As  he  stepped  high  to  pass  the  threshold, 

The  ebon  youth  once  more  contemplative 

And  talking  to  himself.     "  What  ho  !  " 

The  liquorish  pilgrim  cried,  "  What  ho ! 

Attend  upon  me !     Help  me  to  the  chair !  " 

With  mercenary  speed  the  youth  obeyed ; 

With  honeyed  words  he  answered  all  the  taunts 

And  alcoholic  cracks.     Again  he  cleansed 

The  scandals,  which,  ere  he  began  a  second  time 

To  cleanse,  shone  bright  as  any  cuirass. 

With  simulated  humbleness  he  bowed 

As  he  received  once  more  a  silver  piece; 

Then,  with  a  gentleness  which  well 

Bespoke  a  tender  and  a  helpful  disposition, 

He  led  the  traveler  back  into  the  shop 

And  spread  him  on  a  chair. 

"  A  shave !  "  huskily  cried  the  stranger, 

Then  lapsed  he  into  deep  forgetfulness, 

Until  they  shook  him  rudely  and  collected. 

87 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Now  once  again  behold  the  jag-ged  man, 
Pallid  with  powder,  reeking  with  hammamelis, 
Seeking,  circuitously  and  with  serpentine 
Meanderings  to  find  the  door  leading  to  the  place 
Where  he  could  have  his  sandals  cleaned. 
'  Thrice  welcome !  "  cried  the  ebon  youth,  merrily, 
Boosting  him,  meanwhile,  to  the  throne. 
What  visions  filled  th'  Ethiopian's  brain 
Of  pork  chops,  chicken,  carmine  neckwear 
And  the  blood  raw !     With  dreamy  eyes 
The  pilgrim  gazed  upon  the  busy  slave  and  tried, 
With  uncertain  effort,  to  recall  where 
Or  when  he  had  seen  that  face  before. 
Thus  dimly  balmed  in  thought,  he 
Closed  his  eyes  and  soon  thereafter  drooped 
And  rolled  most  calmly  to  the  floor  below. 
Now  see  him,  under  the  brawny  arm 
Of  the  Celt,  attending  as  house  policeman, 
Carried  to  where  the  wind  blows  free; 
And  the  ebon  youth,  sad  and  regretful, 
Philosophizing  among  the  dead  embers  of  hope, 
Recalling  that  in  this  vale  of  disappointment 
A  good  thing  comes  and  seems  inclined  to  stay 
'Till  Fate  shows  up  and  chases  it  away. 

A    BUSINESS   DEAL 

An  ancient  joker,  grizzled  and  half-bald, 

With  the  outward  seeming  and  the  attire 

88 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Of  a  devout  deacon,  and  yet  possessing 

The  frolicsome  nature  of  an  unbroken  colt, 

Pushed  soft  his  entrance  to  a  long  day  coach. 

The  same,  to  make  the  purpose  of  the  tale, 

Was  well-nigh  rilled  with  passengers 

Of  all  degrees.     "  Where  shall  I  sit?  " 

Thus  asked  the  ancient  joker,  for,  in  truth, 

His  sweeping  glance  discovered  no  place 

Vacant.     Until  at  last!     Ah,  there! 

Beside  a  buxom  woman,  well  removed 

From  the  endangered  age  of  coquetry 

And  whose  condens-ed  features  made 

A  chaperon  a  superfluity,  there  sat 

A  dog.     The  woman  and  the  canine  thus 

Doubly  held  down  a  cushioned  seat 

Meant  for  two  human  beings. 

:'  To  stand  or  not  to  stand  ? 

That  is  the  question ; 

Whether  'tis  nobler  in  a  man  to  suffer 

The  crampy  leg  aches  and  the  jolty  motion 

Or  to  take  chances  with  the  heavy  female 

And  oust  the  dog?  " 

Not  overlong  he  waited,  for  he  knew 

That  sweet  diplomacy  might  win  a  cause 

Which  harsh  attack  would  lose. 

Gently  he  lifted  then  the  limber  brute 

And  sat  he  where  the  dog  had  sat  before, 

And  to  the  matron's  cold  astonishment 

89 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

He  turned  a  smile,  oily  and  melting 

In  its  sublime  benevolence. 

Upon  his  knee  he  held  the  dog,  stroking, 

With  unpracticed  hand,  the  wiry  coat, 

And  then  he  spoke.     "  Madam,"  quoth  he. 

"  Full  many  a  league,  in  this  and  foreign  lands, 

Have  I,  your  servant,  wandered, 

But  never  in  my  wide  perambulations 

Have  I  beheld  a  dog  of  any  breed 

More  pleasing  to  my  eye  than  this  one." 

'Twas  a  judicious  lie,  for  well  he  knew 

The  cur  had  neither  pedigree  nor  value. 

"  Listen !  "  he  said.     "  In  my  far-distant  home 

I  have  a  niece,  a  dimpled  little  thing, 

Who  craves  a  true  companion. 

If  I  could  take  this  dog  to  her 

Methinks  I  now  can  hear  her  cry  with  joy 

And  note  her  glad  amazement. 

This  dog  I  must  possess,  and  now, 

In  furtherance  of  what  I  most  desire, 

I  offer  you  one  hundred  dollars  for  him." 

Delight  and  fright  worked  for  supremacy 

Within  the  ample  figure  of  that  dame. 

Moved  by  the  subtle  flattery  she  was, 

And  yet  alarmed  to  know  that  any  one 

Should  covet  thus  her  chief  possession. 

"  Alas,  I  dare  not  part  with  him,"  she  said. 

"  My  husband  loves  him.     Should  I  now  return 

90 


VERSES  AND  JINGLES 

Without  the  household  pet 

'Twould  wrench  his  heart." 

"  What  say  you  then  to  fifty  dollars  more  ?  " 

Urged  the  persistent  one.     "  My  niece, 

My  little,  bright-eyed  darling  relative, 

Must  have  this  dog." 

"  Tempt  me  not !  "  cried  the  woman, 

And  speaking  thus  she  gazed 

More  infinitely  fond  than  e'er  before 

Upon  the  fice.     "  I'll  give  two  hundred." 

"  Ah,  now,  methinks,  you  play  upon  my  avarice," 

The  woman  said.     "  At  the  next  station 

I  must  leave  you.     Better  than  life  itself 

I  love  this  little  dog ;  but  then  —  alack-a-day ! 

Two  hundred  takes  him !  " 

"  Good !     He  is  mine !     One  word,  however, 

Relating  to  the  terms  of  this  transaction. 

Two  hundred  dollars  is  the  price  I  give, 

But  not  in  paltry  gold  or  silver,  mind  you." 

"  What,  then  ?  "  she  asked,  and  as  she  spoke 

The  whistle  blew  the  signal  for  the  station. 

"  With  your  permission,  madam,  I  will  pay 

In  Maltese  cats  worth  eighty  dollars  each." 

Too  full  of  wrath  to  answer  him 

She  fled,  pressing  the  dear  one  to  her  bosom. 

The  ancient  joker  watched  her  mad  retreat 

And  said,  "  I  lose  the  dog  but  keep  the  seat." 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


REC'D  LD 


I 


19 


MAR    619831? 


RECCIR 


•E3 


LD  21-100m-6,'56 
(B9311slO)476 


General  Library 

University  of  California 

Berkeley 


U.  C.  BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


CDS51flS73D 


{Hi! 


